


Fraldarius Colours

by Tammyiia



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hints of abuse, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, References to Depression, SO MUCH FLUFF, Soft Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Sylvain Jose Gautier Being An Idiot, Sylvain Jose Gautier Needs A Hug, courting, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:55:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25767799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tammyiia/pseuds/Tammyiia
Summary: Sylvain is having a very bad, no good, Moon. He's pretty sure someone has cursed him. His things have been going missing, breaking and he'd getting a little forgetful. Good job Felix is always there with a solution. Showering him with Fraldarius themed gifts. He's just being nice, right?
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 13
Kudos: 160





	Fraldarius Colours

This moon had been weird for Sylvain. It had been exhausting. It had been confusing. It had just been out of the ordinary. Sylvain was starting to wonder if someone had cursed him. He’d messed around with enough women’s hearts to know that he probably had a couple of mages out there with voodoo dolls and needles directed at his nether regions. He hadn’t been fooling around for months though, years maybe, not since the start of the war at least!

He’d just been having the most horrendous bad luck.

It had started with his saddle tree breaking. Which if he wanted himself and his horse to be comfortable during battle, he’d need it to be changed, pronto. The only problem was that they were at war, which means that resources were short and he couldn’t ride back to Gautier territory to replace it. So his only choice was to ask the professor to use their limited funding to buy him one.

Although he didn’t get as far as asking them.

Felix had heard him complaining to Ingrid over lunch and had tracked him down in the sables by mid-afternoon.

“Your saddle’s broken.” Is the greeting he received as Felix seemingly appeared out of thin air.

Sylvain’s heart skipped a beat, he dropped the curry comb he was holding and jumped slightly. Dorte hadn’t made a sound, just looked at Sylvain as if to say ‘you seriously need to work on your perception skills’.

“Geez, Felix. You almost gave me a heart attack.” He said, picking up the curry comb.

Felix rolled his eyes. “I overheard you saying your saddle was useless. You need a new one.”

“Ah, yeah, I was going to run it by the professor this evening.”

“Don’t bother. You can have mine. I never use it.” Felix gutted his hip out and gestured at the storage shed it was kept in.

Sylvain blinked in surprise, “Thanks, I’ll need to check it fits on Lady but I really appreciate it.”

“You may as well use the other bits too. Its just going to waste.”

Felix had brought enough gear for a war horse if he ever ended up using one but more preferred going into battle on foot. He’s also overheard Felix telling Ingrid that he’d rather ‘shit in his own hands and clap, than ride one of those beasts into battle’. Which offended Ingrid greatly.

Decent gear for a war horse was expensive, but he knew that the Fraldarius horse masters would have only packed the best, just like the Gautier one had.

“That’s...wow…thanks. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” Sylvain almost suggested taking him out drinking or to pick up girls but didn’t have a chance as Felix suggested an alternative.

“You can train with me tomorrow morning. Meet me outside your room at 6am.”

Before Sylvain even had a chance to voice an agreement or complain at the early morning, Felix had stormed off towards the training grounds. Sylvain shrugged of the encounter and continued to tend the horses.

When he later retrieved the equipment that Felix had so graciously offer to him, he found the saddle to be a perfect fit for Lady. Not only had Felix gifted him the saddle but there was a saddle cloth, embroidered in heraldic colours and arms of house Fraldarius, a luscious teal blue with silver threading. There was also extra blankets and covers for a horse that would never be ridden, the Fraldarius Horse Master had also included armour for a war horse. 

They were in a much better condition than any of the equipment that Sylvain was currently using. He ran his hand over the blanket, it was thicker than his own, better quality. It wasn’t threadbare from overuse and years of war.

Maybe Felix had been considering changing class or perhaps he was just better prepared than himself. Sylvain smiled to himself, Felix had always been a planner, though he’d never been organised or tidy, he always had a alternative plan and thought about every eventuality.

In the next skirmish, Sylvain rode into battle on Lady. Fully decked out in Fraldarius colours. It was a slightly different blue than Gautier with a lack of red accent. Nobody commented on the new look

and Sylvain didn’t notice Felix eyeing him from the side-lines.

The next incident, if you could really call it that, was a lost waterskin. Sylvain pawned through his pack, searching for the leather offender that he was absolutely sure that he’d packed this morning. He had a vivid memory of filling it and placing it carefully upright in his saddle bag.

Sylvain is usually really organised. Everything has a place in his room, it was always tidy, so he just couldn’t understand how he’d misplaced his water skin.

Sylvain gave up with a sigh. They were only a couple of hours ride from the Monastery. He’d just have to wait till they got back, maybe the professor would treat him to tea.

The hunt shouldn’t take them too much longer, they’d already managed to catch a couple of rabbits and a pheasant. Felix was much better with a bow than he was, but where he lacked in bow skills, he made up for it in snares.

Felix was hopeless when it came to setting snares, something about the ropes and balancing the traps had him getting into a flurry. When Sylvain was ten and Felix eight, they’d gone on a hunting trip much like this one. Glenn teaching them both how to set a snare. Sylvain had laughed and laughed when Felix had accidentally managed to tie his feet and hands together, getting so entangled in the ropes that he’d started looking like a caught rabbit himself.

It had been the first time that Sylvain had laughed in months, certainly the first time he’d laughed since turning up at Fraldarius territory with a broken arm and fake smile. Felix had been so pissed for laughing at him that he’d been red with anger the entire ride home. He’d even refused to look Sylvain in the eyes till he’d apologised profusely.

Sylvain sat down heavily against a tree. The forest was dense, shaded and it wasn’t exactly hot. So he’d have to survive till their return, even if it did put him in an off mood.

“Oi, we’re having a break. You should be hydrating. We’ve been going at it since first light.” Felix said, kicking the end of his boot.

Sylvain smiled up at him, rubbing the back of his neck. “ I may have misplaced my waterskin.”

Felix levelled him with a look. Sylvain was fluent in Felixism and this look meant ‘ _Are you an idiot?’_ It was a look that Sylvain had been on the receiving end constantly during their academy days. Sylvain was about to recount his morning, where he had definitely packed a waterskin, when Felix reached into the bag at his side, pulling out a Fraldarius crested drinking skin and thrust it down at Sylvain.

“You’re lucky I packed an extra.”

Sylvain caught the bag, heavy and filled with water. He took a sip and before he knew it was drinking deeply. He hadn’t realised how thirsty he really was. He thanked Felix and handed it up to him to return.

“Keep it.”

Felix walked off, bow in hand as he’d spotted another pheasant in the bushes.

Sylvain returned the waterskin to his own pack. When they got back to the Monastery, Sylvain searched for his waterskin to no avail. He put it down to a casualty of war and continued to use Felix’s.

“It’s going to be a cold one tonight.” Ingrid commented as she shovelled another helping of bread into her mouth.

Felix hummed in agreement, taking a portion of bread before Ingrid could devour the last of them. Eating with Ingrid and Felix was always an experience. Ingrid always ended up stealing something off his plate, Felix would threaten to stab Ingrid if she so much as looked at his food and Sylvain would always get Felix’s pudding. So when Felix slid over his peach sorbet during lunch, Sylvain took it without question.

His fingers brushed Felix’s as he took the small dish. Sylvain thought he might have imagined Felix’s hand staying on his for a second more than usual. That the gentle brush of fingers over his own, which made his whole hand tingly pleasantly was just an involuntary reaction. He was probably just reflecting his own bad habits on Felix because Felix didn’t react at all.

“Sure you want ice cream, Sylvain? I don’t need you complaining to be about how cold you are again tomorrow morning.” Ingrid said.

“Maybe you should warm me up then.” Sylvain replied with a wink.

Ingrid scoffed. “You wish. Why don’t you ask one of your women?”

Felix had gone back to eating his dinner, not looking at either of them. Sylvain waiting for hurricane Fraldarius to hit, as Felix hated talking about his nightly excursions. Sylvain aimed to diffuse the situation as soon as humanly possible.

“I don’t have any women, Ingrid. Nobody to keep me warm at night, my bedsocks have holes in them and my blanket is lost to the washing basket. Woe is me!” Sylvain said dramatically, spooning the sorbet.

“Come to think of it. I haven’t had to deal with any angry brothers or fathers lately.” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you ill? Or have you just lost your charm?”

“You wound me, Ingrid. I’m still as charming as ever, right Felix?”

Felix looked up from his dinner, making eye contact. His vermilion eyes bore into Sylvain’s very soul, or it seemed like it. His eyes swept over Sylvain, slowly, taking in everything. If his eyes lingered a second more, Sylvain was sure he’d turn the same colour as his hair.

“Looks the same to me.” Felix finished his dinner, stood up with his tray. “I’m off to train. Join me if you want, I’ll warm you up.”

Sylvain watched him go, too flabbergasted to say anything. That almost sounded like one of his lines.

A strange fluttering feeling started in his stomach and didn’t seem to feel. Before he knew it, he was tracing the familiar path to the training ground. Felix had looked shocked to see him but a small, almost invisible smirk had wound onto his face. He instructed him to grab a lance, then spent the next hour beating the hell out of him. By the time they were heading to bed, Sylvain was sucking in the cold air trying to cool down for the night.

Not even a wash and a change of clothes could cool him off.

The red flush to his cheeks didn’t disappear either, especially when he imagines Felix lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.

The next night was even colder than the other, Sylvain had gone down to the laundry room to collect his blanket, only to find it missing.

When he had told Ingrid that it was ‘lost to the washing basket’ he hadn’t been serious! Sylvain had sighed in defeat and accepted the rough, standard issue blanket as a replacement. He’d trailing back to his room with a crestfallen expression.

He passed Felix on the stairs.

“Hey, you okay?”

Sylvain looked up at him, frowning. “It’s stupid. Doesn’t matter.” Sylvain shrugged it off, continuing up the stairs.

As he stepped past Felix, a hand rested on his arm. “If somethings upsetting you can tell me. You may be the biggest fool in all of Fodlan, but I’d never think your feelings are stupid.”

Sylvain’s eyes widened, the fluttering in his chest was going full force now and the hand that Felix still had on him seemed to burn. What was this feeling? He didn’t have a name for it, having never felt it before. He just knew that Felix made him feel warm. Like he wanted to smile and never stop. It almost rid him of the awful mood he was in, almost.

“Lost my blanket.” He gave the one in his hand a small wave. “This is the replacement.”

Felix looked over the offending item. He reached over to touch it and Sylvain knew what he’d be feeling. An itchy texture, thin and not nearly as warm as his own. Sylvain really shouldn’t be acting spoiled, it was a lot more than others got and they were a war. He was just annoyed that the red one from home had gone missing.

“Take that one back in the morning. I have an extra you can have.” Felix sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I can’t take that from you, Fe. We both know you get colder than me at night.”

Felix turned on the stairs and started to make his way back up, staying on a step ahead of Sylvain so that he was looking down on the normally taller man.

“You can and you will. No arguments.”

And that was final he guessed, as he followed Felix back to his room. His childhood friend went in and returned with a plush teal and grey blanket. The arms of Fraldaruis proudly standing out against the teal in silver thread.

The blanket was pushed into his awaiting arms. He could feel the difference straight away. It was thick, heavy and fluffy. Before he would do anything embarrassing, like shove the blanket into his face and take a deep breath of what he was sure would smell like… _wow…no…not going there._

“Thanks.”

He retreated to his room, closing the door quickly. His face was most certainly red. He raised the blanket to his face and groaned in embarrassment.

The next incursion required an over night stay. This wasn’t unusual. Happened all the time. So when Sylvain realised he hadn’t packed his tent, all he could feel was an overwhelming annoyance at himself. This wasn’t like the waterskin that had disappeared and never returned. No, he knew exactly where his tent was.

Next to his door.

In his dorm room.

At the Monastery.

He could see it clearly in his minds eye.

He’d grabbed his bed roll and the blanket that Felix had lent him, but completely forgotten his damn tent.

“Sylvain, you aren’t setting up your tent? It’s getting late.” Ashe asked.

Oh dear sweet Ashe, he’d probably let him bunk with him. If he looked pathetic enough, which he was pretty sure he was nailing.

“I forgot to bring it.”

“Is this one of your pickup stunts?”

Sylvain hung his head. “I wish, nope, I’m just an idiot.” He gave Ashe his most charming smile. “Care to help a friend out?”

Ashe smiled back “ I’d love to help you, Sylvain, but I’m sharing with Ingrid tonight. We’re both on late watch.”

There goes his second option.

“Ashe! I’m shocked. Sharing a tent with a girl and you thought this was one of _my_ pickup stunts?!”

Ashe blushed from head to toe, a stutter starting. “I-I, you know we’re not like…you know…that. It’s practice for being a Knight!”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days.”

Ashe smacked him on the arm and pointed at a tent in the distance. “Go ask Felix to share. He’s bought a two-man text with him.”

Sylvain felt like he had already embarrassed himself enough this month, but apparently the Goddess didn’t feel the same. As far as he saw it, he could embarrass himself in front of Felix again (for the 4th time this month) or sleep out near a fire all night under the guise of being on watch.

Sylvain waved goodbye to Ashe, waving goodbye to his pride too and sucked up his inner turmoil.

“Hey, Fe?” Sylvain said softly, hoping that maybe Felix wouldn’t hear him. Maybe he should just go and ask the Professor, they probably had a spare.

Felix poked his head out the tent, glancing up at Sylvain and the pack in his hands.

“Have you not set up yet?”

Sylvain rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, looking to the side to avoid eye contact. “I may have, er, forgotten my tent. Can I-” He heard Felix sigh heavily. He bit his lip and fixed an easy-going smile on his face. “-Er, never mind. I’ll ask the Professor if they have a spare.”

“Get in.” Felix said, pulling the text flap back. Sylvain must have hesitated too long or looked as lost as he felt. Because Felix sighed heavily again, impatiently, grabbing Sylvain’s pack and throwing it into the tent.

Sylvain almost stumbled into the tent but managed to catch himself. They’d almost been two tents down.

Felix had disappeared into the tent, Sylvain pulled his boots off and ducked into the tent. Felix’s bed was already set up, with his own Fraldaruis blanket laid out on top.

Sylvain almost felt embarrassed to get his own borrowed version out, almost.

Felix was already rolling out Sylvain’s bed for him. Right next to his own. There wasn’t much space in the text, but enough for two men to sleep separately. Apparently, Felix had other ideas, as he lined up the two bed, stretching the first blanket over the two beds, then the second that Sylvain has brought with him.

“It’ll be warmer this way.” Felix said as explanation. “Unless you’d rather sleep apart.”

His eyes bore right through Sylvain’s soul. The feeling was back, that weird fluttering in his stomach. Sylvain couldn’t help but smile.

“It’ll just be like old times.”

Except the last time Sylvain had slept next to Felix, they had been children and Felix hadn’t made eye contact while removing his clothing.

Removing his _…oh..okay…_ Felix was taking his coat and shirt off.

You know, as people do before bed.

Sylvain didn’t know where to look. Down at the teal bed was a good place, he guessed. With the Fraldaruis crest staring up at him mockingly. He tripped out of his top half of his clothes, finding his bed shirt, and putting it on.

Sylvain glanced up at Felix, who was still watching him, having now crawled under the covers. Felix patted the bed beside him.

And Sylvain almost lost it.

What was Felix doing? What was going on? Did Felix know what he was doing? Surely not, right? This was just all in Sylvain’s messed up mind. Because now he couldn’t seem to differentiate between friendly interaction and flirting. Maybe it was just because Felix had been acting differently around him lately. Friendlier than usual. After the incident last moon, where Sylvain had almost died. They’d become a lot closer. Maybe Felix did this with all his close friends.

A dark ugly thought crawled into his stomach and seemed to crush the fluttering.

Sylvain tried to ignore it as he climbed under the covers with Felix. They didn’t touch but Sylvain could feel him against his side like a caress.

“Goodnight.”

“Oh, yeah, Night, Fe. Sleep well.”

Sylvain turned on his side, away from Felix and closed his eyes. He felt sick and didn’t understand why.

As he finally drifted off, he thought he might have dreamt about Felix snaking his arms around his waist, pulling him close. A nose nuzzled into his hair and breath against his ear. It was the best nights sleep Sylvain had ever had.

He felt something he hadn’t felt before. He felt…safe.

When he woke in the morning, Felix was already up. Breakfast in hand.

“I’m sorry, Sylvain, I don’t think I can save it.” Mercedes said sadly, handing him back his mangled cloak.

The last battle had claimed another victim. Sylvain’s cloak was wrecked. He couldn’t quite remember what had happened. He’d been thrown from his horse and there was a lot of slashing after that. By the time he’d struck down his assailants his cloak had been cut to ribbons. It had taken the majority of the damage, luckily. He usually wouldn’t be wearing a cloak in battle, but it had been a cold month.

Sylvain had really been hoping that Mercedes would be able to fix him up. This was his last cloak, the other having been lost on the battlefield moons ago. He frowned and admitted defeat.

“Thanks for trying, Mercie. I’ll collect a standard issue one from the supply line.”

Though the whole point of his cloak being different than the other soldiers was to distinguish who the commander was on the battlefield. Maybe he could send someone off to Gautier territory to collect another, though that was reckless and dangerous. Sylvain wasn’t prepared to risk someone’s life for a cloak.

They were almost at the end of the Moon. Sylvain’s very bad, no good Moon was almost at an end. He’s broken his saddle, lost his waterskin and blanket, forgotten his tent and now his cloak was a lost cause. Who had he wronged to have luck this bad? Was the Goddess punishing him for something? Had some girl he’d wronged decided to enact revenge by mildly inconveniencing him.

Felix was walking out the training ground, a towel around his shoulders. His cheeks were flushed a healthy red. His shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, ignoring the chilly breeze. His dark hair falling out of his usual updo.

_He’s beautiful._

Sylvain wiped that though from his head. Sure, Sylvain could appreciate a good-looking man but he really didn’t need to be lusting after his best friend. His best friend that wasn’t interested in relationships, male or female. His best friend that would probably stab him for his impure thoughts, he’d already made it clear how much he hated Sylvain’s flirty personality.

“Could Mercedes do anything?” He asked, wiping the towel over his face.

“No, it’s dead.”

“better it, than you. What are you going to do?”

Sylvain shrugged. “Borrow a standard issue one.”

Felix stretched, his shirt lifting slightly with the movement. It revealed a pale stretch of skin, toned and so very eye catching. Sylvain licked his lips. His eyes shot back up to Felix as he realised what he was doing.

Sylvain thought he saw Felix smirk.

“I’d much rather be able to see you on the battlefield. You should wear my cloak.” Felix suggested. “I have a couple of spares.”

“Really? That would be a big help, Felix, Thanks.”

Felix walked forwards, laying a hand on his forearm. The touch sent a spark up Sylvain’s spine, the other man close enough that he could smell him. Pine needles and cinnamon. The hand withdrew, but left Sylvain feeling like he’d burned the imprint of it into his arm.

“Think nothing of it, what are _friends_ for?”

Tonight was his turn to patrol the Monastery. The professor had paired him with Ingrid. Sylvain yawned as he pulled on the cloak that Felix had lent him. It looked much like the blanket that was draped over his bed. Teal with silver threading. It completely enveloped him, hiding his clothes beneath it. It fit him perfectly, which was strange, seeing as Felix was a few inches shorter and nowhere near as broad as him

Ingrid knocked on his door once before letting herself in.

“Geez, Ig, what if I was naked! At least give me a chance to-“

“What are you wearing?” Ingrid interrupted. She surveyed her room, eyes falling on the blanket. “What the hell is that!?” She pointed.

Sylvain frowned. “Felix lent them to me.” Sylvain grabbed his lance. “Ready for patrol?”

“Ready for- Sylvain, we need to talk about this?” She gestured wildly around his room, suddenly spotting the waterskin on the table.

Sylvain looked over his room. Nothing seemed out of place. “Ingrid, we’re going to be late. Can’t we just walk and talk.”

Sylvain pushed past, closing the door behind them. He casually started walking down the hall. Ingrid trailing after him, spluttering. They man it out the dorms, Sylvain waved at Linhardt as he passed with a couple of large books.

Linhardt gave him a look over, puzzled, before giving him a bored look. “congratulations. I guess I can mark Fraldarius and Gautier off my crest chart, such a shame.” He drawled, disappearing into his room.

That wasn’t the strangest interaction he’d had with Linhardt but it was up there. What was he congratulating him for? Also, what the fuck?

“what was that about?” he asked Ingrid, thumbing over his shoulder to wear Linhardt had vanished.

Ingrid raised an eyebrow and motioned to his outfit. “When were you going to tell me?”

They continued walking. “Tell you what?”

“Your cloak, Sylvain.” She said accusingly.

“Oh, it got destroyed in the last battle. Felix have me his.”

She stopped dead, Sylvain turned to her in confusion.

“You realise you’re wearing Fraldarius colours, right?”

Sylvain glanced down and back up to Ingrid, who was giving him a strange look. “…Yeah…”

“Oh Goddess, you don’t have a clue…” She grabbed his arm from under the cloak, glancing behind them as she started to drag him away from the dorms. “Your horse, the waterskin, the blanket on your bed! Sylvain look at what your wearing, _get a clue_.”

“I really don’t see where you’re going with this, Ingrid.”

“ _Sylvain_. You’re a dagger shy of a proposal.”

They were halfway around the Monastery now. Sylvain was thankful they were nowhere near the dorms as they headed over the bridge towards the cathedral, because he couldn’t help the little yelp he let out. Eyes wide, he turned to Ingrid, who was giving him a similar expression.

“Come on, no way, there’s no way that’s what he’s doing.” The denial was heavy in his voice

“When-” Ingrid took a deep breath to steady herself. “-When Glenn was courting me, he’d show up with little gifts with the Fraldarius crest or colours on them. Dresses, blankets, ribbons for my hair. Like he was..”

“Trying to lay claim, or possession on you?” Sylvain wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On one hand it was kind of a turn on, on the other…he already felt like nothing was _his,_ he didn’t want to belong to someone.

“No. Not like that. I felt protected, like I was being offered a place, like I was actually wanted rather than a treaty deal for a crested child.” She sounded like she was on the verge of tears, holding them back, deep inside. Sylvain was pretty sure that Ingrid had never told anyone this, or let them see this part of her.

He’d felt completely useless when Glenn had died. Felix had isolated himself to the training grounds, his personality changing to a more brash, standoffish persona. Solving everything was a blade rather than words. Ingrid had shut herself in her room, refusing to talk to anyone, or even look after her horse. Dimitri had repressed all his emotions, till he’d broken. Sylvain had tried to be the glue that had kept them together, but when that didn’t work, he’d thrown himself into flirting with anything that moved. Accepting the life that would eventually suffocate him.

Glenn had been his friend too, before Ingrid, Felix and Dimitri had been old enough to walk, Glenn and Sylvain had been inseparable. They’d trained together, ate together and spoke about becoming Knights together. Sylvain had never mention it to any of the others, that he’d been planning to abandon his title and enlist as a Knight, joining Glenn at the Royal Palace.

None of that had gone to plan though.

Glenn had been shipped off to become a squire at a young age and Sylvain had gotten closer to Felix that he’d ever been to Glenn.

And then Glenn had died.

“I don’t think that’s what he’s doing. We’re at war, Ingrid. A lost or broken piece of equipment is just going to bring down team.”

Ingrid groaned, putting her face in her hands and exhaling heavily.

“Even if he was, do you really think my father would allow that?”

There was a heavy silence that followed. They walked the rest of the patrol without incident. Giving Sylvain time to stew over what Ingrid had said.

It was a pipe dream. His father would rather lock him up and throw away the key, throwing potential wives at him till an heir was conceived. He’d almost done just that, with the looming war and threat of death. Sylvain had managed to avoid his father for most of the war, having the excuse of holding the border at Sreng. He’d returned at one point, had dinner with his father, a drink in the study and then had started feeling very, very strange.

He’d been led back to him room, where a woman had been waiting. In his bed.

His father had drugged him. Thankfully his tolerance to poison had been building since his academy days. You could only have so many meals with Claude before you became a victim of his pranks.

He hadn’t been too sure what had happened after that. He thinks he might have pushed the girl aside and escaped out his window.

He woke up the next day at the cabin near the Sreng boarder.

He hadn’t eaten another meal with his father.

Hadn’t retuned back to Gautier territory without a trusted guard.

Ingrid had left him outside the dorm. She’d been silent the rest of patrol. She turned to him as they said goodnight, pulling him into a hug.

“I’d protect you, whatever you decide to do. I just want you to be safe and happy.”

And if he cried himself to sleep that night, bundled up with the Fraldarius cloak and blanket, nobody was any the wiser.

Sylvain had a late breakfast the next day. He washed his face before going down to the mess hall. He knew his eyes were probably red from lack of sleep and the shocking amount of crying he did last night.

He looked over the cloak. It was cold out today, but he didn’t want anyone looking at him or commenting on the new colours like Ingrid had. It was bad enough that Linhardt had seen them.

He left it in his room. Pasting an easy-going smile on his face.

It was freezing outside, he’d obviously made a huge mistake leaving the cloak. Snow was falling, covering the ground. Sylvain quickly ran across the courtyard and up the stairs to the mess hall.

Ingrid was sitting at the usual table. Sylvain was thinking about avoiding her entirely but couldn’t think of aa good excuse. He grabbed his breakfast. Porridge with a berry compote. There was a pot of tea already on the table beside Ingrid. When he sat, she looked up from her food, wordlessly she poured him a cup of tea.

Bergamot

Was she trying to butter him up?

“Felix was just hear, he prepared it for you.”

Suspicion flooded him, Ingrid wouldn’t have said anything, would she?

“Before you ask, I haven’t mentioned anything to him.”

Sylvain sighed a breath of relief he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding his breath. He slumped over the table, cup in his hands, warming him through.

“You should really be wearing something more, it’s snowing.” The barely hidden ‘where’s the cloak?’ was loud to Sylvain’s ears. “He’s at the training grounds. Just to let you know. In case you want to talk to him.”

Sylvain couldn’t really think of anything he’d least like to do less right now. He was a mess, if he was going to…what?

Confront him? Announce his undying…no.

He couldn’t deal with that right now.

He couldn’t give himself hope. That after the war was over, he could have a happy life. A happy marriage?

_Happiness?_ What _is_ that?

“I don’t think I should.”

“I get that you don’t want to disappoint your father, but you know what, screw him. You’re fighting for the future of the Kingdom. You deserve a future of your own after this.” She whisper shouted at him, leaning over the table and grabbing his hand.

“I’m not afraid or disappointing him. I’m just...” He gulped. Frightened of his father? Could he tell her that? _Should he?_ “I don’t know what he’ll do if I don’t follow on the family name.”

He shot up from his seat, pushing back his tray. The scrapping of the chair caused a couple of people to look over, interested in the scene he was creating.

“Syl, what did he do, what aren’t you telling me?”

“It’s nothing, forget about it.”

Sylvain made his escape before she could comment on the look on his face.

He hadn’t been quick enough to hide the look of absolute terror. He’d been carefully blank the night before, but the lack of sleep was getting to him

Sylvain fled the Mess hall, straight to the cathedral. Making sure that he didn’t pass the training grounds.

Dimitri was standing in front of the rubble at the centre of the Cathedral, Sylvain felt like a coward as he snook past him, straight into the room where the huge statues of the saints sat. From there Sylvain found his hiding space. He’d found it during his time in the academy, it was great for hiding from angry girls.

Behind the statue of Saint Cethleann there was a space that was just big enough to hide an adult from the rest of the room.

Sylvain hid there, crouched behind the Saint, till his knees stared to protest. He wrapped his arms around his knees.

How pathetic was he? Hiding from Ingrid. Hiding from Felix. Hiding from his own feelings. Because now Ingrid had told him it was an option, he couldn’t get it out of his head.

He hadn’t even checked if Felix was actually doing that, if he was actually trying to court him. Ingrid could be completely wrong.

“Room for one more?”

Sylvain jumped at the voice. Looking up from his knees, eyes comically wide. Dark hair and a soft expression that Sylvain wasn’t used to, greeted him from the side of Saint Cethleann.

“We’ve been looking for you for hours.” Felix said as he pushed his way into what little space there was behind the statue. He sat down next to Sylvain, shoulder to shoulder.

Hours? Had he really been here that long? His legs and stomach said yes. The ache in both of them different but still filled him with an empty feeling. He’d probably missed lunch. That was disappointing.

“How’d you find me?” His voice was quiet and soft from lack of use.

“Dimitri ratted you out.” He had been sure, he’d stealthed past Dimitri impeccably. “Ingrid told me what happened. I’m…sorry, I didn’t mean to confuse you.”

Felix was quiet. He looked down at his knees, too afraid to face Felix.

“Were you-I mean, you know.” Sylvain ran a hand though his hair. He needed to do this, if not, it’d just hurt him more and he’d end up hurting Felix too. “Are you _courting_ me?”

He felt Felix tense beside him. “I thought I was being obvious, but yes. I’m courting you.”

Sylvain was speechless. He didn’t have a reply to that. Why didn’t he have a reply? He’d been sitting behind here for hours and he didn’t have a reply.

“My father wouldn’t…we can’t…he’d-“ Sylvain stuttered. All his suave replied and charm had seemed to disappear on him in this crucial moment.

A hand rested on his arm, drawing him back from his panic. It was soft and reassuring, caring. Sylvain felt like crying again.

“Do you want to be with me?” Felix asked. He was staring at him, locking him in place with his eyes. There was no fear in his eyes, like he already knew the answer to the question.

Sylvain did too. His heart was almost bursting out of his chest, the fluttering was going full force and he thought to himself. _Oh, that’s what that is._

_I love him_

The dam holding back his tears seems to break. He could felt the hot burning sliding down his face as all he could do was nod.

Felix kneeled, pulling Sylvain against him in a tight hug. His chin rested on the top of Sylvain’s head.

“My father-“

“-Fuck your father. Last time I checked, he was a jumped-up border Lord and I was second in line for the throne.” The venom in Felix’s voice was obvious as he gripped Sylvain tighter. “The only person that would be able to disagree with this union, would be Dimitri and he’s already told me I can ‘do what I want’”

Sylvain had never heard Felix throw around his title so much. He hadn’t even realised that Felix was that close to succeeding the throne. With Dimitri’s uncle dead and Felix’s father looking to pass his title down.

Sylvain wrapped his arms around Felix, relaxing into the hug.

“Let’s get you warmed up and some Lunch. Ingrid will kill us both if we hide here any longer.”

Ugh, He had to face Ingrid. Felix stood up, he already missed the feel of him wrapped around him. Was that sappy? He offered a hand down, pulling Sylvain to him feet. He didn’t let go of his hand as he pull him from his hiding space.

A teal cloak lay on the other side. Felix released his hand, bending down to retrieve it. In one swift motion, he’d stood up, a fluffy of fabric dancing through the air as the cape side onto his shoulders.

The smile Sylvain gave him was soft.

“I love you.”

Felix surveyed the cloak with a sly smile. His expression changing to loving in seconds. He looked younger with the small smile curling onto his lips.

“I should hope so.” He pulled the cloak tight, pulling Sylvain down so that his lips were a hairs breadth away from his own. “I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> What did you think? This was supposed to be quite lighthearted and then i took a turn. I've tried to stay in character as much as possible. Leave me a comment if you have time, they really help to motivate me!


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